


Unsteady

by ready_to_kick_some_ass



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Amnesia, Angst, Child Abuse, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Meetings, Hospitals, Human Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Whump, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Past Child Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2019-07-12 18:55:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16001276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ready_to_kick_some_ass/pseuds/ready_to_kick_some_ass
Summary: When Chloe takes the case of a man, who was found in the desert, hurt and confused, she doesn't know that this case will change everything.The man thinks he's the devil and escaped an eternal life in hell.But Chloe rather thinks that he has gone through a hell on earth.





	1. Lost

Chloe drives through the desert and feels like she’s lost in the middle of nowhere.

It's a depressing image.

Nothing but dry sand and withered plants around her. Some flickering shadows in the burning sun. And a hollow sound, that's probably the wind blowing over the flat lowland without a barrier. The dusty street seems to have no end. But then, after what seems like an eternity, she finally sees some police cars and an ambulance with flashing lights in front of her.

Relieved, she stops the car and gets out, right when some paramedics wheel a stretcher with a man on it past her. Chloe sees barely more than a pale face, covered with an oxygen mask, and unruly dark hair, before they close the doors.

She walks to a police officer, who is standing behind a crime scene tape, which seems somehow unnecessary in the middle of a desert, looking at his smartphone.

“Detective Chloe Decker, LAPD,” she says, throwing the man a curt smile, when he turns her head to her. She takes out her badge, showing it to him.

The man nods. “Officer Brandon White,” he says, wiping his sweaty face with a tissue.

Chloe notices, that he looks quite shaken. “What do we have here?” She asks, pulling out a notepad.

“The victim is male and about 35 years old. He was found in the desert by a truck driver, who coincidentally drove by. He’s dehydrated and exhausted. He has severe sunburn and his feet are literally shredded. I never saw something like this before. He must have walked with his bare feet miles long.”

Chloe swallows. “We're sure it's a crime?”

“Yes. He apparently received a blow on the head with a blunt object. And he has bruises on his wrists. Looks like they were tied together."

Chloe writes that down. “Okay. No sign of the attacker?”

“No. Like I said, he must have walked through the desert for a long time.”

Chloe hums. “Anything else?”

“Well …” White scratches his neck. “Um. He thinks he’s the, um, devil.”

Chloe looks up, frowning. Well, that’s something new.

“Really?”

“Yes. While the paramedics were tending to him he told quite a story. Said he fell from heaven because his father, um, _God_ , didn’t want him there anymore. And he was ruling hell but now he’s here to have a good life and now his father dared to destroy it,” Thomas says, smiling weakly. There's pity in his eyes. “Poor guy. Must have been hit really hard.”

Chloe blinks. “Yes,” she says slowly. “I think so too.”

 

*

 

The hospital is busy. But when is it not, Chloe thinks, walking quickly through overfilled hallways. When she finally finds the doctor, who is responsible for the man who was found in the desert, he tells her, that he doesn’t think he can talk about what happened.

“But you can try,” he sighs. “He’s awake. He has a concussion and is exhausted. Not to mention his feet. We had to give him a lot of pain medication. He also shows signs of amnesia. We'll take further tests later.”

“Did you get a name from him?” Chloe asks.

The Doctor nods, looking a bit amused suddenly. “He said he’s called Lucifer Morningstar,” he says.

“Lucifer Morningstar?” Chloe repeats, frowning. “Is that … sort of a pseudonym?”

“I asked him that too. But he said no, it’s his real name. He also said that he’s the devil.”

Oh. Right. The guy thinks he’s the devil, Chloe remembers. So "Lucifer" makes sense. But … it can’t be his real name, right? No parents would call their child Lucifer ...

The doctor clears his throat. “I think we will have to hand him over to psychiatric care, as soon as his physical state improved. He seems to be very confused and disturbed. Also we found scars on his arms, that look self-inflicted. We will have to make a psych evaluation.”

Chloe swallows. “Do we have anything about his background?”

“Not really. He apparently has an older brother. He’s listed as his emergency contact. We tried to phone him a few times. No success so far.”

Chloe nods, feeling the first hint of pity. “Alright. I’m going to try to talk to him.”

 

*

 

Chloe enters the room slowly, looking to the man in the bed.  He’s propped up with a few pillows and looks at her with mild interest, as she approaches him.  

He’s attractive. There’s something about him, that feels strangely appealing.

His brown eyes are warm and yet they have something sad in them. Something, that doesn’t quite fit to the bright smile that slowly spreads on his face.

“Mr. Morningstar. My name is Detective Chloe Decker. LAPD,” she tells him. “I’m here to talk to you about what happened to you. But only if you’re up to it. If you think you need more time, I can come again later.”

He looks her up and down, curiously. “No it's alright. I'm at your service,” he finally says, sounding slightly dazed.

She throws him a small smile and sits on the chair beside the bed. “Your name is Lucifer Morningstar?” She asks. The strange name sounds somehow melodic on her tongue. She just wants to see if he gives her another one.

But he nods, smiling even brighter.

Chloe clears her throat. “Do you remember anything before you woke up in the desert?” She asks.

Lucifer shakes his head. “No. But I can imagine what happened.” He snorts.

Chloe frowns, looking at him questioningly.

Lucifer smiles bitterly. “My father. He has a strange sense of humour, you know? For some reason, he apparently decided to let me be kidnapped and gave me back my wings while I was lying in the desert, unconscious. Well, that’s him. Good old dad. They never change, do they?”

“Your … wings,” Chloe says slowly, blinking.

 “Yes. You can't imaging how annoying this is. But I won’t have them for long anyway. I refuse to be his puppet. He can’t play with me like this. I don’t want these wings,” Lucifer says. Now he sounds angry. He raises his voice with every word and Chloe sees, that his hands start to tremble.

“Um … And what exactly do you want to do with them?” She asks carefully.

“I’m going to cut them off,” Lucifer explains calmly. “I did it before.”

Chloe swallows. She’s not a therapist. But still she senses, that this man is really disturbed and, remembering the words of the doctor, about his scars, she guesses he’s also probably a danger to himself. She doubts, that she will get coherent information from him at this point. That will have to wait until he’s better …

“Maybe we should do this later,” she tells Lucifer carefully. “You seem ... to be very exhausted.”

He looks at her, frowning. He opens his mouth a few times, without saying anything. His eyes fill with confusion.

“I fell,” he suddenly says, barely audible. His eyes widen slightly. “I fell and I … I was burning.”

Chloe swallows.

Lucifer raises his hands and looks at them. They are still trembling.  

“I fell,” he says again. “Why …” He makes a noise, that almost sounds like a sob and Chloe involuntarily shivers.

She considers calling for a doctor, when he suddenly gasps and his eyes fill with horror.

“I have to … I have to go! He’s in danger … He’s …”

In front of Chloe’s shocked eyes, he throws the blanket off him frantically, trying to get out of bed. But his legs are weak and trembling. He doesn’t even manage one step before they give way underneath him and he falls with a startled gasp.

Chloe jumps up and tries to catch him. They tumble to the ground together.

Lucifer makes a pained noise as his sunburned limbs make contact with the floor. He heavily leans against Chloe, who has her arms wrapped around him, hoping to not cause him more pain.

He’s thin, she notices. Too thin for his height. His upper body is bare and the bandage around his chest, that covered one of the worst sunburns, slipped.

Chloe inhales sharply, when her wandering eyes fall on his back. There are scars everywhere. Her stomach clenches. She starts to feel slightly sick.

Involuntarily, she reaches out to touch one of the bigger scars, which looks like a broken halfmoon.

Lucifer flinches, grabbing her hand to stop her. “Don’t,” he says. It sounds broken.

“What happened to you,” she whispers.

He doesn’t answer, but his body tells a story she doesn’t like without knowing it. Suddenly he moans breathlessly. It sounds pained.

Concerned, she breathes his name and looks at his face.

He seems to be completely exhausted now. There’s sweat on his forehead and he’s breathing hectically.

Chloe clears her throat. “I’ll call a doctor,” she says softly. “You need rest.”

He laughs. It sounds bitter.

“I’m the devil,” he says, closing his eyes. “My wounds will heal soon. Don’t worry, detective.”

Chloe sighs sadly. “You have to go back to bed,” she tells him softly. “Come on.”

With her help, he manages to almost stand up, but then his hurt, bandaged feet make contact to the ground and he hisses in pain. Chloe shakes her head. “I can’t do this alone,” she tells him, carefully lowering him to the ground again. She’s sweating now too. He’s heavier than he looks.

She leans him against the bed and stretches to push the alarm button on the wall. Then she sits down beside him, carefully stroking over his arm, hoping she can at least spend a little bit comfort. “Help will be there soon,” she tells him.

Lucifer just nods. His eyes are closed. He seems to be half asleep.

Chloe continues to stroke over his arm slowly, feeling sad and confused. A few moments pass in silence.

“Detective?” Lucifer asks suddenly, looking at her from half lidded eyes. His voice sounds small.

She smiles at him. “Yes?”

“Do you believe me?” Suddenly, he looks so hopeful, so vulnerable, that it makes Chloe’s heart clench.  

She swallows. She doesn’t quite know what to say now. So she says nothing. She just lays her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

He looks at her one more moment, than he closes his eyes again, smiling crookedly. “Of course you don’t,” he mumbles. “No one does.”

Chloe swallows. She feels sorry for him. Truly sorry. And she hopes, someone will be able to help him. But most of all, she hopes she can find out, what happened to him. Somehow, this case seems to be very important to her.

For some reason, she reaches for his hand, taking it into hers carefully. Lucifer lets it happen. He inhales shakily. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. And then he squeezes her hand almost painfully hard. But she allows it. She senses that it’s what he needs right now.

They sit there like this for a moment, and Chloe feels like something’s between them in the air. Something … like a connection.

But then the doctor and two nurses come into the room, and the moment is gone.

 

*

 

“Mum?”

“Yes, Little Monkey?”

“Is something wrong? You look sad.”

Chloe looks up from her pudding startled. Her daughter looks at her attentively.

She forces a smile on her face. She doesn’t tell her daughter that everything’s fine. Trixie is smart. It’s no use to lie to her.

“Oh Monkey. Don’t worry. There was a case today that, um, was very strange. A man was found in the desert. He’s in hospital now. I talked to him and he seemed to be very confused. It made me sad.”

Trixie makes a sympathic noise. “Poor man. But you will find out what happened to him, won’t you?” She asks, smiling at Chloe. “You always do!”

Chloe nods. “I will.”

Hopefully.

 

  
Later, Chloe reads to Trixie for a while, feeling slightly guilty, when her daughter complains that she doesn’t read the dialogues in the right voices, like she uses to. But she’s distracted. She can’t help it.

When Trixie is sleeping, she sits on the couch, trying to read for a while. It doesn’t work. She doesn’t even understand the words she reads again and again.

Her thoughts always wander back to the man … to Lucifer.

Chloe doesn’t understand. Why does it bother her so much? He’s just another victim, isn’t he? She has seen a lot of suffering in her job. And after some time, she learned how to deal with all the pain and violence. She learned how to distance herself from it. But now … Something feels different.

And it makes her anxious.

_I’m the devil._

Why does he think of himself this way? Where do all those scars come from? What did he do alone in the desert?

So many questions. She wants to find the answers.

She has to.


	2. Pain

He’s walking through an endless desert and he’s on fire.

The sun on the cloudless sky is burning his skin. There’s no escape from the merciless heat. Light without shadow.  

He’s walking … He doesn’t know where to. It doesn’t seem to be important. He’s just walking. On and on.

The air is to dry to breathe. It hurts his lungs. His breaths are rattling coughs.

Someone is calling his name. It’s a whispered echo in the nothingness.

_Samael._

He shudders. No. No that’s not my name. Not anymore …

He would have told the voice to shut up. But all that leaves his sore throat, is a choked noise.

The hot air is suffocating him slowly. And his feet won’t carry him further. He falls to the ground. Dust and blood.

_Samael …_

Dust and blood and white feathers.

 

Lucifer awakes with a gasp.

He wakes up, but the nightmare still isn’t over. He stares up at a grey ceiling, feeling heavy and light at the same time.

_Samael._

He exhales shakily. He was called like this, wasn’t he? In another time. In another place.

Before he … fell.

He remembers falling. Remembers how it felt. Hot and cold. Despair and disappointment. Rage. Sadness. Maybe even regret. An unruly, forceful mixture. It makes him feel slightly sick.

He shakes his head and groans, when a wave of sudden dizziness overwhelms him. The room is swaying around him. After a moment he tries to sit up slowly, shocked at how weak his body feels. It isn’t supposed to feel like this … Weak, sore, heavy and useless.

By the time he finally sits upright, he’s wheezing, and everything throbs in distant pain.   He realizes that his chest is covered in bandages, just like his feet, which feel like someone is stabbing a needle into them constantly.

“This isn’t funny,” Lucifer murmurs, looking up at the grey ceiling above him. “This … it has to end. If this is a joke …”

He groans, as another wave of dizziness overcomes him, and he hides his face in his hands. What happened? There’s no answer. All he finds in his mind, are blurred images of a desert and people, hovering over him, asking questions he doesn’t understand.

What happened …

“I’m Lucifer,” he eventually says for some reason to himself. It feels somehow comforting. It’s at least one thing he knows. He knows his name. He frowns. “I’m … I’m the devil.” Good. Another thing that’s true.

“And … and ….”

Lucifer feels a whole new feeling of panic making his throat clench, as he tries to remember more, and only finds puzzle pieces, that actually explain nothing.

His father hates him. He hates his father. For some reason. He’s evil, right? Of course. The devil has to be evil. There was a city, he used to live in. His home? What was it called again … But hell he remembers. At least a bit. He wanted to escape this place. He fled. He ran. Away to a whole new place.

What happened there?

What …

Before the desert and its heat, there's only the memory of darkness. And ... pain. Yes. _Pain._ Something hard hit him all of a sudden, and everything went dark.

Lucifer runs a hand over the bandage that covers the wound on his head, which is throbbing in distant pain.

He frowns. This … This is wrong. Nothing makes sense.

He shouldn’t be laying in a hospital bed. He’s the devil. He’s … He’s immortal, isn’t he? He should be.

But now he’s weak and in pain. And he’s scared.

_Dust and blood and white feathers …_

White feathers? Wings. He had wings, when he woke up in the desert.   But … didn’t he cut them off? 

On a shore. He cut them off on a shore. Under a starry night sky.

 _Are you sure?_ A voice in his head asks.

Is he?

He wants to stop thinking. It’s pointless. Everything hurts, and he just wants peace. There was peace when he was sleeping. Before he woke up, people poked him and asked him questions.

Now, there’s a war going on inside his head and his body riots.

And he understands nothing.

*

Doctor Linda Martin has been in this profession for quite a long time now. She considers herself a good therapist. She knows she’s a good listener and often - very often - finds the right words. Her job satisfies her. It makes her happy, to be able to help people, to give them back a bit of hope and light, when they think everything, including the future, is dark. Yes. She really likes her job. And after all those years, nothing can shock her easily. At least so she thought.

  
On a Friday which started incredibly stressful, with a traffic jam and some bad-tempered men that screamed insults at her which she answered so colourfully that some of them blanched visibly, she comes into the hospital and is told, that she has to evaluate a new patient, who is pretty confused and probably amnesic.

“He thinks he’s the devil,” The man’s doctor tells her, raising an eyebrow. He looks slightly amused.   

“Okay,” Linda says, feeling angrier about the man’s inappropriate mocking voice than she feels surprised about the information that a man thinks he’s Satan. “Anything else that I should know?”

“Well. He has a few scars that we’re wondering about. Maybe you can find out, were they come from.”

Linda nods, grabbing the door handle. “I’ll do my best.”

When Linda opens the door, the man in the bed is picking at the cannula in his arm.

“Bad idea,” she tells him, closing the door behind her, and he flinches. He looks at her with brown eyes, that certainly would have been warm, if there wasn’t a certain agitated confusion sparkling in them.

“I don’t need this,” he tells her, pointing at the needle sticking in his elbow, connecting him to two IV bags.

Linda shakes her head and sits down on the chair beside his bed. “In one bag is painkiller and in the other is fluid. Trust me, you need both. You were severely dehydrated when they found you and your feet are badly hurt.”

The man scrunches up his face. “I’m the devil. I’m healing quicker than humans. I’m sure I will soon be …” He stops, suddenly grabs his head and groans.

Linda hums in sympathy. “You shouldn’t move around much with a concussion,” she tells him. “My name is Doctor Linda Martin, by the way. What is your name?”

“Lucifer,” he says distractedly, rubbing his head.

“Okay. Lucifer, I’m here to talk to you about a few things. How are you feeling at the moment?”

“Great,” he mumbles.

Linda raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

Lucifer sighs. “Well. My whole body hurts, I don’t know what happened to me and I’m laying in a hospital bed, weak and vulnerable, although I’m an immortal creature – of course I’m not feeling bloody great, Doctor.”

“Okay,” Linda says, writing something on her notepad.

His eyes widen and he suddenly seems curious. “What are you writing? None of the other doctors did that, you know?”

Linda smiles at him. “I make some notes. They help me with finding out how to help you.”

“How to help me?” He frowns. “I don’t know how you could help me … Well. Unless you know anything about reappearing, annoying wings …”

Linda looks up, frowning. “Wings?” She asks.

He nods. “Yes. I cut them off once, I think. But when I awoke in the desert, they were back. Like I said, annoying …” He looks at her and seems to see something in her eyes that he doesn’t like, because he sighs and shakes his head. “You don’t believe me either, do you … Well.”

He slowly sits up in bed. A small groan of pain escapes his lips, but he still smiles at her. It seems defiant. “They are hidden in another perception most of the time. But … I can show them to you,” he says.

“Okay,” Linda says, smiling carefully.

Lucifer raises an eyebrow. “They are going to startle you,” he warns. “But … you said you want to help me. So you have to first believe me.”

“Okay,” Linda says again, shifting on her chair.

Lucifer nods and closes his eyes. He frowns in concentration.

Linda waits patiently,

Lucifer looks over his shoulders and gasps in shock. His eyes widen in disbelief. He looks back at Linda. "There ... there are no wings, right?" He asks her in a trembling voice, that sounds bitter and horrified.

Linda shakes her head.

Lucifer nods curtly. He closes his eyes and sighs.

Linda watches, how the expression on his face changes from desperation to anger and back. His hands on the blanket clench into fists.

Eventually, Lucifer opens his eyes again. He turns his head to look at his shoulders again. He exhales shakily. Finally, his eyes fill with disappointment and despair. “Why … How can he do this to me?” He whispers.

“He?” Linda asks, frowning.

“My father,” Lucifer says bitterly. “I guess he considers this to be funny.”

Linda tilts her head. “How would you describe the relationship to your father?”

Lucifer scoffs. The despair in his eyes gets replaced by a burning anger. “He hates me,” he states matter of factly. “He wants me to suffer. This is the final prove. He … He's mocking me.”

He’s breathing heavier now. He narrows his eyes. “But I’m not his puppet. I won’t play this game just for his entertainment!”

“So you think your father did this to you?” Linda asks.

“Of course! It’s his nature, isn’t it? To play with everyone like there his puppets,” he scoffs.

“What are you feeling in regard to him?” Linda asks.

Lucifer shrugs. "What am I supposed to feel? He abandoned me. He hates me, because I ... um ..." He suddenly stops, his eyes filling with confusion.

“I don’t understand,” he mumbles. “I’m so angry and tired. Why … why is there so much. So much to feel. So much to …” He looks at her pleadingly. “Why?”

“Because you’re human,” Linda says carefully. “Lucifer. You’re human. What you’ve been through must be terrible. This … your mind tries to find suitable answers for this confusing scenario and for …”

“I’m not insane!” Lucifer suddenly shouts at her and Linda flinches. She almost considers pressing the alarm button, but then the man in front of her makes a noise that sounds like a sob. He hides his face in his hands and his shoulders start to tremble.

Linda swallows. “I don’t think you’re insane,” she tells him. “I think you’re very confused and that’s no wonder, after what you’ve been through. You need to allow yourself to rest and heal …”

He shakes his head. “How,” he mumbles, into his hands. “How can you … I don’t understand it.”

“Lucifer?” Linda asks carefully.

Lucifer makes a distressed noise and raises his head to look at her. “How can you stand it?” He asks, his eyes wide open and filled with tears. “This pain … how can you not scream and cry? How do you stand this? If this is what it means to be human … I want this to stop!” He starts to bang a fist against his forehead. “It has to stop! Just … stop it already!” He gasps, tears running over his face.

“Lucifer!” Linda calls out worriedly, but he doesn’t seem to hear her. He starts to firmly pull at his hair now, heavy sobs shaking his body.

Linda quickly presses the alarm button on the wall. Then, she carefully lays a hand on Lucifer's shoulder, trying to show him, that he’s not alone in his pain. But he doesn’t seem to notice it, completely caught in his distress and confusion. Heavy, whimpering gasps escape him now, shaking his whole thin body.

After a moment, the doctor and two nurses come in.

Linda backs away, to give them space to work. They manage to stop him from hurting himself, making him laying back down on his back. The doctor injects a sedative.

It works quickly.

Linda watches as Lucifer’s eyes start to slip shut. She hopes he can get some rest. He really needs it.

*

At the hospital, Chloe is told that Lucifer isn’t in the state for being interrogated. She isn’t really surprised. After a few careful questions she gets a lot of concerning answers.

He didn’t receive a single visit since he’s here. He’s almost certainly amnesic. He seems to remember nothing before the desert. He still thinks he’s the devil and when a therapist tried to evaluate him, he wanted to show her his wings. Of course there weren't any and he had some kind of a mental breakdown.

_He didn’t receive a single visit._

Somehow, that’s the fact that haunts Chloe the most.

 

“Maybe it’s some kind of Dissociative Identity Disorder,” Dan, her ex-husband, says at work, when Chloe tells him about Lucifer. “Maybe the devil is one of his made-up personas, you understand? He might have gone through a major childhood trauma.”

Chloe shrugs. She stares at the file of Lucifer's case. It's way too thin. “Maybe.”

“Anyway, we should concentrate on other, more important cases right now,” Dan says. “Since the only witness we have is an obviously mentally ill man who can’t remember anything before waking up in a desert and calls himself Satan.”

“Yes. I guess you’re right,” Chloe mumbles, putting Lucifer’s case back into her drawer.

 

*

 

She really tries to hold herself back. She shouldn’t do this. It’s unprofessional.

But … It’s Sunday. Trixie is with Dan today. Chloe is lonely and has too much time for thoughts about Lucifer. Who is as lonely as her in that hospital room. No visits …

She really shouldn’t do this.

 

She still does it. (Later she will tell herself, that something drew her towards him. Something she can't explain.)

 

In the evening, she knocks at Lucifer’s door and enters the room.

“Hey,” she says, looking at the man in the bed.

She swallows, when she sees, how defeated he looks. He lays in the bed completely motionless, his hands folded on his chest. His eyes are slightly glassed over and there’s an expression of frustration frozen on his face. He looks like there’s no fight left in him.

But when he hears her voice, when he looks at her, a smile starts to spread on his face and give his eyes some sparkle back. “Detective!” He exclaims, moving to sit up, wincing in pain.

Chloe smiles back and sits down on the chair beside the bed.

He tilts his head. “Am I going to be interrogated again?”

Chloe shakes her head. “No. I’m … Actually, I’m here to ask you how you are,” she tells him.

“Oh.” Lucifer’s smile fades again. “I’m … I wish I could tell you I’m fine. But that’s a lie. And I never lie,” he says seriously.

Chloe raises an eyebrow. “Really? You never lie?”

He nods. “Never. I will always tell you the truth, Detective. No matter how offbeat it may seem to you.”

“That’s good to know,” Chloe says softly.

“And maybe,” Lucifer continues, the smile reappearing on his tired face. “Maybe I can convince you to believe me …” He looks at Chloe attentively and suddenly frowns. “You know,” he says, “Somehow … somehow it seems to me like we've met before? Do … do I know you?”

Chloe swallows. She shakes her head. “No. I’m sorry but … we haven't meet before,” she tells him.

He nods, but still seems to be confused about something. They look at each other for one more moment, and Chloe feels something between them in the air, like a certain kind of strange, but not unpleasant electric tension. She blinks, and the moment is gone.

Lucifer lays back with a groan, closing his eyes. “I’m tired,” he states matter of factly.

“You should rest. You need it,” Choe tells him, standing up quickly. “I'm going to leave now. Goodbye Lucifer.”

She turns to go to the door, but suddenly Lucifer’s quiet voice makes her stop. “Thank you, Detective.”

Chloe looks back at him, right into his brown eyes, that look at her with a hint of warmth in them.

“Thanks for coming here,” Lucifer murmurs and smiles weakly.  

Chloe smiles back at him. She feels her throat tighten. “Goodnight, Lucifer,” she breathes and leaves the room.

She walks back home, her mind restless and full of questions.


	3. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story just got really dark.  
> Also I settled on Human Lucifer. No supernatural elements.
> 
> Please read the tags, this chapter contains Past Child Abuse and some descriptions of violence (non-graphic)

He’s sitting in the darkness and he’s alone. He can hear nothing but his own quick, shallow breaths and a distant rushing. Maybe it’s raining outside … No, he immediately tells himself sternly. There’s no rain in hell. No rain. No sun. No light. Those things are not for the sinners. Hell is an empty place. It’s made of stones and firm walls. And it’s silent. Most of the time.

Only sometimes, the door opens. Like now.

He flinches, when he hears steps approaching. A shiver runs down his spine. He rocks back and forth on his knees. _I’m sorry_ , he thinks. _I’m sorry …_

The steps stop behind him. _Do you know why I’m here, boy?_ A voice asks him. Calm and deep.

He nods. _I know_ , he thinks. _I know …_ He whimpers.

 _Confess your sins_ , the voice says coldly.

He exhales shakily. Then he bows his head and mumbles, “Forgive me father for I have sinned … I … I thought about how it would be, to see the sun again. Just, just for one time. And I … I thought about mum …” He stops a moment, when he hears an angry growl behind him and swallows.

 _Go on_ , the voice tells him.

He closes his eyes. “I … I had wrong thoughts. I thought I deserve things I don’t and I’m sorry,” he whispers.

_Do you accept your punishment?_

He closes his eyes. “Yes.”

Almost immediately, he feels a sharp pain on his back and hisses. He clenches his hands into fists, trying not to scream when the blows hit him again and again.

“Forgive me father,” he whimpers. “Forgive me … I didn’t want to disappoint you … I’ll be better, I promise …”

_Lucifer. It’s not your fault. It’s just in your nature. We’ll take care of it. We’re going to get through this and we’ll defeat the evilness. Do you trust me, Lucifer?_

That’s not my name, he thinks confused. Or is it? He nods because it’s the only option.

 _You know you deserve this, don’t you?_ The voice goes on. A hand caresses his cheek and he shivers. “Yes. I’m sorry, father …”

_Don’t be scared. I’m going to help you. The devil once has been an angel after all._

He nods and clenches his jaw, forcing the tears back.

In silence, he awaits the next blow …

 

“NO!” He sits upright in bed, staring into the void. Darkness … dark. Like hell. No. Like a, a …

Lucifer flinches, when somewhere, someone coughs. The noise is deafening loud in the silence of the night. It tears him out of his thought process and all that’s left of the nightmare are images without connection, without context. Punishment. Sin. Darkness. Hell.

He shakes his head and groans, when a wave of dizziness overwhelms him. “Do you enjoy this father,” he whispers spitefully. “Do you enjoy to torture me like this? Not explaining anything to me. How do I deserve this …”

_I don’t understand._

Breathing heavily, he turns his head to take a look out of the window. But like in his dreams and in the room, there’s nothing but darkness.

He closes his eyes because it makes no difference at all and lays back into the pillows. But this night he doesn’t sleep again.

*

In the morning, Christie, an elderly nurse he already knows, comes to check on him. Lucifer likes her. She doesn’t look at him like he’s a lost case or … or a mad man. She just comes into his room with a smile, opens the curtains jauntily and tells him it’s time to wake up and go to business.

“This looks a lot better already,” Christie tells him today, when she loosened the bandages on his feet and looks on the wounds. “I’m sure you will be able to walk without problems soon.”

Lucifer just hums. He doesn’t feel like answering her today. In fact, he feels like he’s about to throw up. He can’t stop thinking about the nightmare he doesn’t even really remember. But he remembers darkness. And pain. And … and the feeling of being worthless …

He must have made a noise, because Christie suddenly lays a hand on his shoulder and looks down on him with a worried expression on her round face. “Are you in pain?” She asks, already moving to up his painkillers.

“It’s alright,” Lucifer mumbles distractedly. “I deserve it. I … I deserve the punishment.”

Christie looks down at him with a frown. “Why would you think like this, young man?” She asks softly.

“I’m the devil,“ he says matter of factly. It’s somehow the explanation for everything.  
 

*

 

When Chloe comes into Lucifer’s room, she instantly notices that something’s different.

He doesn’t even look up when she approaches him. His eyes are blank like he’s not really present. He’s fumbling with his hands and biting his lip. He seems nervous. Tense.

Chloe has to say his name twice until he recognizes her. When he does, he flinches and sits more upright in bed, his nervousness changing into sharp awareness that comes too sudden to be natural.    “Detective,” he says. His smirk is back again. “What a pleasure to see you again.”

“Hello Lucifer,” she says, taking place on the chair beside his bed. “How are you feeling today?”

He tilts his head. “I couldn’t be better. Although my wounds heal slower than I’m used to, I feel like I will be soon back at my usual strength.”

Chloe smiles. “That’s good to hear. Do you think you can try answer some questions today?”

“Ask away, detective. Ask away. I’m at your service,” he says cheerfully and smiles brighter. It makes his eyes sparkle and for a moment, Chloe feels almost hypnotised by them. She clears her throat and crosses her legs. “You still can’t remember anything from before you woke up in the desert? Maybe … a person? Or what you used to do? Did you have a work or …”

Lucifer’s eyes widen slightly. He suddenly raises one hand and looks at it, frowning. “Doctor Campbell,” he murmurs. “He asked me a lot of questions too.” He wipes a strand of hair out of his forehead and smiles weakly, distractedly. “He told me I’m a good person.” His smile falters and his eyes narrow. “But that’s not true.” He add in a calm, serious voice.  

Chloe swallows. Something about this, about Lucifer’s behaviour is so very off today. But she can’t quite understand what it is. “From where do you know doctor Campbell, Lucifer?” She asks carefully, writing the name on her pad.

Lucifer opens his mouth, but then closes it again. He blinks a few times. “He told me I’m better,” he murmurs barely audible, and Chloe leans forward slightly, to hear his words. “He told me …” He falls silent, blinking up at the ceiling.

Chloe waits, her fingers tightening around her pencil.

“I can play the piano,” Lucifer suddenly says dreamily. “I’m quite good.”

Chloe smiles at him. Her stomach drops, as she has the feeling of wrongness again. “Really?”

“Yes. Music … It’s like magic, don’t you think, detective? It speaks to us without words. And there’s a fitting music for every emotion. We can show them without being stripped bare. We can express ourselves, without struggling with words. Wonderful.” He smiles again. This time, it’s really a happy smile. It makes his eyes sparkle again. He looks good in this moment. And Chloe asks herself, what it would be like, to know him better. To look behind this wall of played self-confidence and smirks.

“I love music too,” she tells him. “I like to read while listening to orchestra music.”

“Oh really?” He asks, shifting on the bed excitingly. “Who are your favourite composers?”

They spend a while talking about composers, music and art. It’s a good talk, Chloe thinks. Natural and comfy. When she notices that he’s getting tired, and a nurse comes in, saying something about medication, she tells him goodbye, feeling a certain fluttering in her stomach, that she quickly pushes away. No. Whatever she thinks she might feel in his presence, she has to ignore it and concentrate on her tasks. On her work.

And she does. She starts to search for doctor Campbell. At first, she’s frustratingly unsuccessful. After a while, she has a new idea. She phones psychiatric hospitals in Los Angeles, asking if they’re missing a patient. And eventually, to her surprise, she’s successful.

 

*

When she knocks at doctor Campbell’s office door, a man past his forty, wearing a simple blue shirt, opens the door. His eyes behind the glasses blink at her, certainly trying to remember her face.

She smiles at him and shows him her badge. “Chloe Decker, LAPD. Is it true that you’re missing a patient?” She asks.  

The doctor looks at her surprised. “Yes, but how …”

“I phoned around. A week ago, a man was found in the desert. He calls himself Lucifer and told us he’s the devil. He told me about you. He mentioned your name and that you told him he’s a good man.”

The doctor exhales slowly. Chloe sees a hint of recognition in his eyes. “Do you have a photo?” He asks her quietly.

Chloe nods and shows him one.

“Yes,” the doctor agrees, his eyes getting a sad look, when he sees the photo. “That’s him. That’s Thomas.”

“ _Thoma_ s,” Chloe repeats, tasting the name on her tongue. “Can you tell me something about him? I took his case. There are indications he might be involved in a crime.”

The doctor nods. He still looks at the photo. Finally, he makes a vague hand gesture towards his office. “Please. We should talk about that in private.”

Chloe nods and follows him inside the room. He points her to the chair in front of his desk and they both sit down.

Doctor Campbell takes another look at the photo and wipes his face. He takes a deep breath. “His name is Thomas. His backstory is … He had a tough life, Detective. Really tough. His mother died in a car accident. She was driving Thomas home from school. Thomas survived almost unharmed. He stayed with his father after the accident. But after the burial … His father somehow snapped. He was an alcoholic anyway. But after the accident, he seemed to also take drugs. He took Thomas with him to a lonely hut in the forest. He locked him in the cellar and abused him for years. He told Thomas he’s the devil and needs to pay for his sins. He used the bible as foundation for his verbal abuse and the “punishment” he exposed Thomas to almost every day.”

Chloe stares at the doctor, shocked. This is beyond anything she has imagined. Oh God … “What did the punishment look like?” She asks, already feeling sick.

The doctor sighs. “He used a whip. And sometimes a knife. That’s where the scars come from. Thomas told me his father said to him, that a fallen angel loses his wings. That he cut them off.” He shakes his head. “Thomas hadn’t seen sunlight for a long time. When he was freed, because a hunter heard screams, found the hut, and called the police because he felt something was wrong, he has already been in his late teens. For him, this cellar truly must have felt like hell. He was beaten, starved and verbally abused until he believed the things his father told him. Because it was reality for him. For a long, long time.”

“What happened to his father?” Chloe asks.

“He died in prison. A heart attack. But Thomas thinks he’s still alive. When he switches personas, he’s convinced his father is still punishing him.”

“Oh my God,” Chloe whispers, pressing a hand in front of her mouth. She feels like she’s about to vomit.

“Thomas spent a lot of years here at the clinic. When he felt better, he asked to live on his own and I agreed, upon condition that he takes part in the outpatient program. He came here for his therapy sessions regularly. But one day, he didn’t come. I knew something was off about it …” He sighs. “Something must have happened. Something very stressful. It triggered another episode. It made him walk into the desert and when he woke up, he didn’t remember.”

“So it’s Dissociative Identity Disorder?” Chloe asks, remembering Dan’s thought.

The doctor nods. “Yes. The immense childhood trauma caused it. He developed another persona to deal with the memories he can’t face. Lucifer is what his father made him into. The devil, who must stay in hell and will never get home up to heaven again. The devil, who’s hated by his father and has to endure his punishment forever.”

Chloe feels tears prickling in her eyes. “But … he’s going to remember sometime? Who he really is?”

“Yes. But the time between switches can alter. It can take up to a few days.”

Chloe shakes her head. She takes some deep breaths, trying to process the information she just received. Doctor Campbell watches her with a knowing look. “It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?” He says sadly. “That a father would do this to his son, who just lost his mother. We can’t imagine, what he had to endure … I always hoped I will be able to show Thomas, that he can be himself and be loved. That it’s not his fault what happened to him and that there’s a future waiting for him. It was never easy, but we made progress. He discovered a few things that bring him joy …”  
He smiles at the memory. “He loves to play the piano. One of the other patients here at the clinic taught him. He just loves music. It’s one of the rare things that make him relax.”  

“Yes,” Chloe says. “He told me … He told me what music means to him.”

The doctor’s eyes widen in surprise. “He did? He usually needs  a lot of time to warm up with someone before he tells them things about himself. He must really like you.”

Chloe swallows. “Maybe,” she says quietly.

Doctor Campbell looks at her seriously.  
“I hope you can find out what happened to Thomas. He’s a very sensible person. I care about him and if someone dared to hurt him, I wouldn’t like the thought of that person still walking around freely.”

Chloe nods.  
“I’m going to find out what happened,” she promises.

In silence, she asks herself, what she’s going to do about all the emotions she feels in regard to Lu … Thomas.

She really doesn’t know.


	4. The Wall

“Mum! It’s your turn again!”

Chloe perks up, feeling slightly guilty. She knows she’s more distracted than usually today. Thomas’ case gets to her in a painful way like no other case before. “I’m sorry, monkey.” She rolls the dice and moves her boot past Trixie’s horse, placing it on a field her daughter has already built a hotel on. Of course.

Trixie cheers and Chloe hands her the money, shaking her head in amusement. Them playing Monopoly always ends the same way. Trixie gets all the good streets and builds hotel after hotel while Chloe mostly spends her time either in prison or paying fees. The irony …

When Trixie unsuccessfully tries to hide a yawn behind her hand for the first time, Chloe throws a glance at the clock. “Time to go to bed,” she announces. Her daughter groans, but she yawns again and rubs her eyes in a gesture, that looks so innocent and child-like, that Chloe’s heart warms at the sight.

She sends Trixie to the bathroom and puts the game away. Her thoughts wander off. To Thomas again. To the scars scattered on his body. She knows now, where they come from and that knowledge makes her stomach clench painfully. She has come across a few cases of child abuse before. But this … this kind of yearlong torture Thomas’ father exposed him to, the manipulating and abusing, it makes her feel sick and gives her goose bump. She tries to imagine a little boy sitting in a dark cellar, shivering in the cold, confused and scared, expecting another beating of his father. What kind of monster could do that to his own child?

Sometimes, there are things that show in a horrible, painful way, what a cruel place the world can be …

A little while later, Chloe gives Trixie a goodnight kiss on her forehead and her daughter hugs her. “Are you sad, mum?” She asks softly and Chloe sighs. Her daughter is so good at reading her feelings and connecting them to a bigger picture …

“A bit, monkey,” she says, running her hand through Trixie’s hair.

“Is it because the man in the hospital?” Her daughter asks.

Chloe hesitates. “Yes,” she eventually admits. “Something really bad happened to him. And he’s very lonely. It’s not easy to think about this without getting sad.”

“Maybe he needs a friend. Everything is easier if you have friends. Dad told me that,” Trixie murmurs sleepily, blinking repeatedly, fighting against sleep.

Chloe feels a warm hint of affection for Dan. “He’s right, monkey. Friends make most things easier.” But I can’t be Thomas’ friend, she adds in silence. I’m the detective who tries to solve his case and I’m already way more invested in this than I should probably be.

She remembers when she was at her office earlier today, going through Thomas’ thin file again. Dan stood behind her at some point, shaking his head. “You’re so focused on this case,” he said. “Or are you focused on _him._ ”

Chloe didn’t like the way his voice changed.

“Oh, please Daniel,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s just … I feel like there is a lot more behind this than it seems. It’s my job to find out what happened.”

Dan sighed. “But we have not a single clue that someone else was involved, Chloe. He’s the only one who can tell you what happened.”

“I know.”

Dan is right. Thomas alone can give them more information. But right now … he doesn’t seem to remember anything and he’s not really himself. They don’t know how long he will stay like this. Could be days. Or weeks.  

Chloe remains sitting on the edge of Trixie’s bed for a while, stroking her daughter’s hair. Trixie is already asleep, snoring softly. Her face is relaxed. Chloe looks down at her, smiling. She loves her little monkey so much. She would never let anything bad happen to her.

Eventually, she leaves Trixie’s room on her tiptoes, going to her room to read some more about Dissociative Identity Disorder.

After talking to Doctor Campbell, she has brought a huge heap of books from the library. She read about causes and symptoms, about treatment and difficulties. The list of possible risks was so long … Heightened risk of attempting suicide. Alcohol or drug abuse. She also knows now that there’s an average of three different personas, which sometimes aren’t aware of each other. But Doctor Campbell told her, that during his therapy Thomas was able to distinguish himself from Lucifer, at least most of the time. That was the goal of the therapy, the Doctor had explained to her. To bring the personalities together. It can be a long and painful way, with setbacks.  

Chloe really hopes what happened to him didn’t throw Thomas completely back in his recovery.

The next day she visits Thomas’ apartment. Doctor Campbell gave her the address.

She enters it hesitantly, looking around. The furniture is quite spartan. A table with one chair, a bed and a nightstand. A wardrobe. There is no decoration. No framed pictures on the walls. No plants. It looks like the flat of a man who doesn’t quite know where he belongs to.

The only remarkable thing is the big piano standing in front of one of the windows. It is beautiful. Chloe smiles and walks over to it, stroking a finger over the smooth black surface carefully.

The lid is open. Her eyes wander over the black and white keys. Here he has been sitting, she thought. Here he has created beautiful music, has been losing himself in it. After a moment’s hesitation she sits down on the stool and lays her finger on one of the smooth black keys. She presses it down and a high tone resounds, slowly fading. She can’t do much more than that. She has never learned to play an instrument and considers herself as unmusical. She thinks about Thomas, asks herself how it would be if he teaches her. If he would lay his fingers on hers, guiding her, teaching her to play the same melody as he does. He would smile at her, look at her with his warm brown eyes and he would –

Chloe startles. She forces herself to stop these thoughts, feeling almost shocked about herself. She takes her finger from the key. No. No, she won’t develop a crush on a victim of crime. A mentally ill one. No. It wouldn’t be right.

Still … she can’t deny she’s feeling strangely drawn towards him. It’s like he’s magnetic. Maybe, she thinks, it’s because he’s lost. I felt lost once too. After losing my father.

There was a long time in her life, in which she didn’t quite know who she was supposed to be. Who she would become one day. Where her path would take her. She figured it out eventually. Now this man, who is lost in many different ways, his mind kind of a puzzle missing pieces, is laying in a hospital, confused and hurt. She wants to help him. Even if it seems like this riddle is unsolvable.

Chloe gets up and looks around, trying to see something that isn’t there. Sometimes, when she’s looking close, furniture speaks to her. Sometimes, the tiniest divergence in a system can be what solves a crime. But this apartment stays awfully silent.

As silent as Thomas’ hospital room must be now, Chloe guesses. And that’s when she has an idea. She heads home, feeling determined but at the same time worried about herself.

***

Thomas looks a bit better, Chloe thinks when she enters his room. He sits upright in bed, his head turned to the window.

She clears her throat and he perks up, looking at her. A smile spreads on his face and the sun makes his brown eyes glow. “Detective. It’s good to see you.”

Chloe smiles. “I’ve brought you something.” She shows him a portable CD-player. It has been standing somewhere inside her storeroom for a few years. He certainly could use it better than her. “I thought … since you said you like music.”

Thomas’ eyes widen. “Thank you, Detective. You’re very kind.”

“You’re welcome,” Chloe murmurs and puts the player on the nightstand. When she looks up, she sees Thomas staring at her, with a slight frown on his face. He tilts his head to one side. “Are you alright, Detective?”

“I … why?” Chloe asks aghast.

“You look sad.”

Chloe swallows. She forces a half-smile on her face and shakes her head. “It’s just been a long day.”

Thomas studies her face a moment longer and eventually sighs. He lowers his head, suddenly seeming disappointed. “I wish I could help you, Detective. I really do. But I don’t remember what happened before the desert.” He narrows his eyes and bumps a loose fist against his head in a sudden angry gesture. “My father must be really angry. He usually doesn’t meddle with my business this much. It’s some new form of punishment. Oh, he must love it!” He laughs bitterly.  

Chloe shivers involuntarily. Driven by some instinct, she lays a hand on Thomas’ shoulder. He looks at it surprised. “It’s alright. Just … focus on getting better,” Chloe tells him softly. “Your wellbeing is the most important thing now. Everything else can wait. You deserve to feel better.”

His eyes wander from her hand to her face and his eyes soften again. “Alright. I’ll try, Detective.”

She smiles and their eyes stay locked a moment longer, until Chloe clears her throat and says, “Goodbye, Tho – Lucifer. Until next time.”

He swallows. “Detective. Could you turn the music on, before you leave?” He sounds so hopeful …

She nods and smiles. “Of course.”

*  
  
The music is soothing.

Lucifer leans back into the pillows and closes his eyes with a sigh. He feels his mind calming down. All the restless thoughts about his father disappear. The sweet vibrations of violins change into the soft chimes of a piano.

He smiles as he remembers. Someday, he was playing the piano himself.

Someday …

No.  
  
He is playing it _now_.

In a dim room, only lightened by a candle. The small flame is throwing huge shadows on the walls around him. The piano keys are smooth and cool under his slowly moving fingers. A well-known melody … A song. It’s …

He stops playing abruptly, when he starts to feel strange, like someone’s watching him. An unpleasant shiver runs over his spine. A discordance echoes through the flat and he flinches.

Someone is standing behind him in the shadows.

He hears heavy breaths.

A voice rips through the silence. “Thomas … Finally,  I found you.”

_Thomas._

The name sounds familiar and strange at the same time.

He wants to turn around. Wants to see who is standing behind him. But he can’t move. It’s like his fingers are frozen to the keys. They feel cold now.

The someone behind him chuckles hoarsely. “Now, you will help me.”

Lucifer frowns and opens his mouth for a question that fades away in the void unheard, because the scenery changes and he’s not sitting in front of the piano anymore. He’s crouching on hard concrete, his knees feeling sore and his whole body trembling. He gasps and whimpers. His back is on fire. He looks around, trying to see through the darkness around him.

The sound of dripping water is the only thing he can hear beside his own hectic breaths.

He knows he’s back in hell. He’s where he belongs. Paying for his sins.

He lowers his head and sobs, flinching when he hears steps approaching. The fear rises until it’s a screaming crescendo inside his mind. He wraps his arms around himself, trying to make himself smaller. “I’m sorry,” he gasps. “Please forgive me, father. Please. I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll try. I …”

A hand cups his chin, forcing him to raise his head. The touch is gentle, almost a caress. He looks up confused. His father’s face is a vague shadow, lighter than the darkness. Light enough so he can see the smile on it. “Don’t be scared, my boy. I know you’re trying your best. I’m not here to punish you today. No. You know I love you, don’t you, Samael?”

“Yes,” Lucifer whispers. “Yes, I know, father.”

“I love you, no matter what. But some things are necessary. They must be done.”

“Yes …”

“Pray with me, son. Pray with me.”

“Yes, father.”

They pray together and he holds on to his father’s hand. Warm calloused skin on his own cold and numb one. He follows his father’s voice the best he can. He’s going to show his father that he’s willing to leave this place. That he’s willing to be a good son.

But when they’re done, his father still unbuckles his belt. His father still beats his still sore back while mumbling more prayers. His father still leaves slamming the door shut, locking it twice.

And Lucifer still remains on the cold hard floor, trying to stifle his sobs by biting his own hand. He isn’t supposed to cry. He isn’t supposed to feel sorry for himself. He deserves this. He’s bad. He’s evil. He’s …

The devil.

 

***

  
Thomas awakes with a groan, blinking into the sunlight. He wants to turn around to bury his face in the pillow and gasps, when a sharp pain rushes through his body at the sluggish movement. _What …_  

He frowns and sits up carefully, noticing there’s an IV-port in the back of his right hand. A somber premonition befalls him. He looks around, his breath quickening. He’s at a hospital. Why is he at a hospital?

Thomas hides his face in his hands and exhales shakily. “No. No, no, no …”

He doesn’t understand. Why … what happened? His whole body aches and his head feels incredibly heavy. His thoughts are a mess, leading him nowhere concrete. He raises his hands and looks at them. They are trembling.

Thomas takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. This happened before. He knows why.

A young woman – a nurse, he guesses, enters his room with a polite smile on her face. “Is everything alright, Mister, uh, _Lucifer_?”

Thomas flinches at the name. Lucifer. “Please,” he says and his voice almost breaks. “Please don’t call me that.”

The nurse blinks. “But …” She glances at his patient chart. “That’s the only name you gave us, Sir.”

Thomas sighs and presses a hand against his forehead. A throbbing pain is threatening to overwhelm him. “How long?” He gets out.

“Sorry?”

“How long have I been away?”

The nurse looks quite helpless now.

The throbbing pain in his head intensifies and he closes his eyes, groaning. “Where’s Doctor Campbell?”

“I’m … I’m going to get Doctor Martin,” the nurse tells him and rushes out.

Thomas groans and curls into himself. It feels like his head is split apart. He wishes he could go back to sleep. Back into the peaceful darkness surrounding him like a protective coat.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, until there’s a hand, carefully touching his shoulder. “Try to take some deep breaths,” a calm female voice tells him.

Thomas cracks an eyes open and sees a woman sitting beside his bed, smiling at him. She’s wearing glasses and has blond hair that just reaches her shoulders. She looks a bit familiar, but like everything, it’s just a vague feeling.  

“My name is Linda Martin,” she tells him. “Can you tell me who you are?”

“Thomas,” he breathes.

She tilts her head and seems a bit surprised for a moment. But the smile stays on her face. “Okay. Thomas, I know you’re confused right now. Do you know why you’re here?”  

Thomas slowly shakes his head. “It happened again, right?” He asks, feeling his eyes well up. “I don’t understand, I … I was getting better. Doctor Campbell said so. Please. I just want to go home.”

The woman bites her lip. “I’m sorry, but that isn’t possible. Not right now. You had an accident.”

“An accident?” He groans and presses his fingers into his temples, as another wave of pain rolls through his head. An accident … what … He closes his eyes and a picture flickers in the darkness. An angry face, just a vague shadow. A harsh voice, commanding him to talk.

“I told him I don’t know anything,” Thomas says and shudders.

“Him? Who is him, Thomas?” The doctor asks, sounding alert now.

 

Thomas shakes his head. He tries to remember, but it’s difficult. It’s like there’s a wall inside his mind, shielding him from what’s going on on the other side. Doctor Campbell told him he would be able to take a look over it, if he concentrated and accepted. But it was dangerous. Because the past was lurking on the other side. Thomas tries anyway. He just needs a little glimpse.

He has to know what’s going on, because the confusion he’s feeling right now is killing him.

He concentrates and tries to _see_.

He’s laying on the floor of a van. The vehicle is shaking. Thomas’ can’t hold on to anything, because his hands are bound with some kind of rope. His head hurts. He groans and tries to sit up. He freezes when a voice resounds. “Ah. You’re awake.”

Thomas swallows. That voice … it’s the same voice that interrupted his music … He looks up. A shadow is lurking above him. He can’t make out a face. But he smells a combination of cigarette smoke and Scotch. The shadow crouches in front of him. Thomas wants to back away when the man’s stale breath hits him. “Just tell me where it is, Thomas, this will make things a lot easier. Tell me where it is and I may let you get away without a scratch.”

Thomas shudders. “I don’t know where it is. I … Please, I want to go home,” he pleads.

The huge man chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’m sure I can help your memory …”

The shadow pulls something out from somewhere. A knife?

  
The images blur in front of Thomas’ eyes. He feels he’s slipping … Because the wall appears again. It’s higher this time.  

He gives it up.

 

“Please … I want to go home,” Thomas whispers again, his voice broken, and Linda’s heart aches as she watches him writhing on the bed, caught in the clutches of the images in his mind. She remembers her phone call with Doctor Campbell, the man Detective Decker found on her search for a trail.

He’s on his way now. Maybe he’s going to arrive in the evening. Linda hopes he can help Thomas, since the man is surrounded by strangers right now. She watches the nurse administering a light sedative and stays until Thomas’ murmurs stop. He falls back asleep.

Linda turns the music back on, hoping he can at least sleep in peace.

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly have no idea where this is leading to.  
> But I had a terrible plot bunny.  
> And I should warn you, I love to write heavy angst. But I always add hurt/comfort :3 
> 
> I'm not a native speaker and always grateful for being corrected! I'm constantly trying to improve my English, so please don't hesitate to tell me about mistakes. <3
> 
> Visit me on tumblr: [ready-to-kick-some-ass](https://ready-to-kick-some-ass.tumblr.com/) :)


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